“Why, what happened?”
Aaron sipped his wine. “A friend of mine was in trouble. She owed some rent money to her landlord, and he’d demanded she pay it that evening, threatening to throw her out on the street if she didn’t. But then someone stole her purse. The banks were closed and there were no cash machines around, so she begged me to help her out. I didn’t have that kind of money, either, so I borrowed some from the till of the bar I worked in, right at the end of the night. I swear I was going to pay it back first thing the next morning so no one would notice. It was a pretty dumb thing to do, but the owner didn’t really like me, so I couldn’t ask him for a favor. Anyway, he saw me taking the cash and called the police. I spent the night in custody and lost my job. It was all pretty horrendous. After that, I kind of erased Corsica from my memory. When you and I talked about our travels, I didn’t mention it to you. I don’t recall you going there, either.”
“I only went there for a day trip,” she said.
They both looked at the photograph again.
“I bet you thought I looked hot in that T-shirt.” Aaron found a grin. “Even I think I look great.”
Carla tutted at him. “I didn’t even notice you.”
Aaron set his wineglass down. “Are the tarot cards really so silly if they brought you here? Which card am I supposed to be?”
The roots of Carla’s hair prickled and she struggled to utter her next words. “Perhaps The Lovers,” she murmured.
Aaron leaned forward again, so closely Carla could feel his breath on her neck. “I suppose we could find out if the prediction is true,” he whispered.
Carla immediately shot back as if scalded. Her head told her to run away, but she had too many things to discuss with him, and too many things she needed answers to. She speared a piece of beef and struggled to swallow it, even though it was tender. “Never.”
“Fair enough. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us,” Aaron said. “I was always in a rush—to do things, to go places, to be someone. If I’d have taken more time, listened to you more, things could have been so different. We might even still be together.”
Underneath his confident swagger, he’d never been so sensitive or vulnerable with her before, and his blue eyes displayed a new sincerity and maturity. Carla swigged a glass of water to ease a flare of regret.
“We were young,” Aaron continued. “You’d lost your mum and helped to raise Jess. You were surrounded by all those superstitions, and your gap year overseas gave you a taste of the real you. And then I came along and proposed to you.”
“It was something I wanted, too...”
“I should have allowed you time to grow. If I could turn back time, I’d do things differently.”
Carla felt the memories rush back to her, along with the pain of their marriage ending. “You just wanted everything straightaway, a wife, travel, a business, a home...a child...” She let her words fall away, her cheeks burning when she remembered some of their volcanic arguments. “The portfolio of things didn’t mix.”
“I shouldn’t have taken that damn job.” Aaron shook his head.
They both picked up their glasses and took a long swig.
Carla and Aaron had been married for over two years when he’d been offered a job in Toronto and had asked Carla to join him. She’d hugged him tightly, full of happiness for him, while also scared of moving away from her family. She was still in a post-wedding haze of homemaking, hosting barbecues and thinking of starting a family, not moving somewhere a thirteen-hour flight away.
Aaron had gushed about advancing his career, all the snow and beautiful green spaces, low crime rates and maple syrup. “After a couple of years living in Canada, I’d love to move to Paris. I want an office with a view of the Eiffel Tower...” he’d said.
He always approached everything with zeal and it had been easy for Carla to get caught up with his big plans and ideas. In bed at night, Aaron drew his visions in the air with his hands while Carla wanted to sleep. He was like a tornado spinning around her and she wanted to step out of the eye of the storm sometimes, especially when she’d found out she was pregnant.
When she’d presented the white stick with the two lines to her husband, they’d held hands and danced around their living room together until they were so exhausted they’d collapsed in a heap on the sofa.
“Oh gosh, we’re going to be parents.” Aaron had beamed and they’d looked at each other with eyes full of astonishment and wonder.
The next few weeks had been a rush of buying pregnancy books, making doctor appointments, throwing away cream cheese from the fridge and buying underwear in a bigger size. They’d agreed not to tell their families until after Carla’s twelve-week scan, their secret making things feel even more precious.
Although it had been early days, they’d discussed names for their baby. Carla liked the classics: Lucy or Emily for a girl, perhaps Oliver for a boy. Unusual ones appealed to Aaron more, like Zorro or Bowie. Carla drew a line at them, and they’d agreed that when their child arrived, they’d look at him or her and just know the right name.
This changes everything, Carla had thought to herself. Now we’ll stay in England.
Except her pregnancy had added an extra layer of complication to their plans. Aaron started to talk about Canadian education systems, plowing ahead with their move, and the speedometer on their lives revved up a notch. Carla felt like she was on the median strip of a highway, watching cars whoosh past her as she waited for a gap to cross.
They’d held hands tightly when they’d gone for the first scan, looking forward to telling their loved ones about the pregnancy. Carla could still remember the deafening silence of the sonographer as she’d examined the ultrasound image on-screen. Carla had lain there feeling vulnerable with her stomach exposed and shiny with gel, until another nurse had entered the room. The two medical professionals exchanged a few whispered words together.
“I’m very sorry, we can’t detect a heartbeat,” the sonographer finally said, handing Carla a wad of blue tissue to wipe her belly.
Carla looked at Aaron, and they both numbly faced the screen. “But I can see the shape of the baby. Maybe it hasn’t had time to develop properly yet.” She’d grasped at thin air as a tear trickled down her cheek.
The sonographer’s tone had been kind but firm. “Ultrasound can detect a fetal heartbeat in pregnancies beyond eight weeks but there’s no cardiac activity here. I’ll arrange for a doctor to talk through the options available to you.”
“Options?” Carla had asked in a daze.
“We can let things happen naturally or make another hospital appointment for you.”
In the small dim room, Carla and Aaron gripped each other’s hands so tightly it hurt.
She’d opted to return to the hospital, where she’d had an anesthetic administered. When she next woke up, she felt totally empty, as if all her internal organs had been removed, too.
Carla and Aaron had dealt with the miscarriage in different ways. She stayed at home, taking comfort in routine and being close to her friends and family, whereas Aaron went full steam ahead with the plans to move overseas. As they pulled in opposite directions, the invisible threads that held them together strained to the point of snapping.
She remembered that they’d attended a glitzy property industry party a few weeks later, even though Carla said she didn’t want to go. Aaron had kissed her on the cheek and promised they’d only stay for an hour or so.
She’d worn a red satin dress she wasn’t comfortable in and had watched as her husband charmed other people like he didn’t have a care in the world.
After a couple of hours, Carla had tapped on her watch to point out the time, and Aaron responded to her gesture by leaving her at the buffet table while he complimented his boss’s wife on her earrings. Carla had stared at the food and felt as small and shriveled as the sausages on sticks.
She’d raised it with him when they got home. “Did you really have to talk to everyone?” She’d sat down heavily on the bed. “There was no point in me joining you.”
